


Encouragement

by PhenixFleur



Series: Predation [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Falls, Blood, Dark, Deerper, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hunter AU, Hunter Bill, Kidnapping, Knives, No Fluff, Physical Abuse, Sadism, Violence, no seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenixFleur/pseuds/PhenixFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day of his new life is a nightmare. (Continuation of Say Yes. Dark.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Encouragement

**Author's Note:**

> There’s nothing good here. It's dark and depressing and if all you're used to is my fluff you might want to walk away. No shipping, just Hunter Bill being an asshat and a target for ASPCA intervention.

Every day was a nightmare, one miserable period of torment after another until they began to blend together, and a good deal of the time Dipper couldn’t differentiate between them. The hunter whose grip he’d fallen into was unfathomably sadistic, either incapable of gauging or unmindful of his physical and emotional limits, and more than once he wished the man had followed up on his threat to just shoot him instead of hauling him back to his lodge to harass him like a sociopathic child pulling the wings off of a fly.

The best part of day came when the hunter was absent, either out tearing his way through the woods in a path of destruction or resting; depending on the bastard’s mood he either chucked the poor cervitaur back into the cage in the basement, killed the lights and left him to huddle in a corner of the crate trying to ignore the odd creaks and skitters that occurred somewhere out in the thick blanket of darkness, or he chained him to the wall in the main room whose walls were  _covered_  in hunting trophies - in the form of bits and pieces that had once belonged to other creatures. Occasionally he’d loop the chain around his wrist and sleep with the cervitaur curled up on the floor next to his bed, afraid to move and potentially awaken him - that had happened once, and he had a couple of scars from the experience. Still, any point in time when the hunter wasn’t interacting with him was a dream come true, and despite his loneliness he craved being left alone.

Today was going to be one of the worst days.

“Giddy-up, kid!”

The hunter’s heels dug into his sides in an attempt to spur him forward; for some reason that asshole had gotten it into his head that Dipper had four legs and  _kind_  of resembled a horse, therefore he could be ridden like one. This was stupid, and Dipper had to refrain from saying this several times, but he still found himself struggling to carry the man from one side of the room to the other, straining against the metal collar around his neck being pulled taut and making it rather difficult to breathe. Unfortunately, the extra weight proved to be too much, and after only a few steps he collapsed, legs folding beneath him and spilling the hunter onto the floor with a gasp of surprise.

Dipper really wasn’t sure what the guy had been expecting.

“Wow.” The hunter stood up, brushing himself off and turning a critical eye on his unwilling pet. “You’re really bad at this, kid.”

Perhaps it was the days of verbal taunting and emotional abuse piling up with no release, but Dipper couldn’t take it anymore. He rounded on the hunter, stamping a hoof against the wooden slats. “That’s because you’re too fucking heavy!” He screamed.

Silence. Complete and total silence. The hunter regarded him with an unreadable expression.

Dipper realized he’d made a grave mistake. “I…I…”

He yelped as the hunter tugged at the chain, reeling him in and hauling him upwards until the cervitaur could feel the man’s breath against his skin. His lone eye glittered with malice. “Maybe you just need a little more encouragement.”

‘Encouragement’ was just as unpleasant as Dipper had imagined it would be.

He gritted his teeth, choking back another pained hiss at the sensation of leather tearing into his back. “Let’s go, kiddo!” The hunter cried, growing more and more unhinged with every passing moment and waving the whip above his head. “Get a move on!”

Dipper blinked away unshed tears, focusing all of his energy on completing the task at hand. The man’s weight was still too much to bear, but he slowly made his way forward, unsure if he could withstand being hit with the whip again. All the while his captor applied more 'encouragement’ in the form of nudging his flanks with the whip handle, hard enough for it to bruise. “This is pretty underwhelming! Seriously, kid, can’t you go any faster?”

_No_ , Dipper sighed, inwardly - it seemed best to keep any further commentary to himself. 

Physical limitations were physical limitations regardless of personal investment, and he made it only a few feet away from his last stopping point before his legs buckled again. “I can’t do this,” he panted, struggling to catch his breath. “I can’t.”

This time the hunter’s retaliation was immediate; the man rose from where he’d rolled off the cervitaur’s back and reached for the whip; the lash landed against his back, tearing yet another hole in his shirt. Dipper failed to hold in the wail this time, shielding his head with his arms. “You’re just not trying hard enough,” the hunter informed him, in a cold, unfeeling voice that made the cervitaur shudder. “I can give you a reason to try harder.”

Dipper whimpered, cowering from the rain of blows against his back, his flanks, his haunches, cutting through fur and flesh alike. “Stop…I can’t…”

Another tug of the chain, completely cutting off his air supply. “You  _will_  because I’m ordering you to. Now  _walk._ ”

Dipper burst into tears, instantly dampening his collar. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“You’re pathetic, kid,” the hunter groaned, tossing the whip aside and leveling a harsh kick at the limp cervitaur’s side. “I should have just skinned you when I first hunted you down.” He paused, lips curling up into a malevolent smirk. “I can still do it, you know. Just tie you down and start at the bottom while you’re still kicking and screaming.”

Dipper paled; his stomach twisted into a knot. “No, I’ll try again, I-”

“Too late!” The hunter knelt beside him, tightening his grip on the chain around the cervitaur’s neck. Out of the corner of his peripheal vision Dipper caught sight of something silver gleaming in the light. He instinctively knew what it was and tried to pull away, only to find himself shrieking as the knife slashed through his left side. “I’m gonna carve you up, kid. Piece by piece. Where should I start?” Another slash, this time across his shoulder. “Here? Or here?”

The  cervitaur continued to sob bitterly at each new laceration; the sites formed a network of pain that stretched across the entirety of his body, coupled with his inability to breathe properly due to the collar around his neck. At some point there were more chains, lashing his wrists together, one coiled around a hindleg that stung endlessly as if it were broken. His screaming only served to spur the hunter on, stabbing at him more and more indiscriminately the more he protested. 

“I don’t want to die,” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I…”

“ _Shut up_.” Before the hunter had stuck to surface cuts; this one was deep, parting fur and flesh and fat, deeper into his flank than anything he’d ever felt before. The scream of agony stuck in his throat, eyes widening. “You had your second chance, kid.”

Dipper shut up, dissolving into pitiful weeping while he forced himself to think of what would probably be his last memories of his sister. He was going to die. That much was clear. The number of wounds he’d sustained, the pool of blood staining his undercarriage…he was going to  _die._  Strangely enough, he wasn’t filled with sorrow at the prospect, the way he’d imagined he’d be, or as he’d feared what might have been either minutes or hours before. Perhaps it was the weeks of poor treatment or his fading hope that his family would find him somehow, but death would be peaceful. Maybe after he closed his eyes for the last time he could sleep again without worrying about being beaten or yelled at the moment he opened them again. 

He could feel the pain beginning to fade, the sound of the hunter berating him growing dim. 

“This is a lot of fun, kid.” The sensation of the knife slicing into his skin also faded; it occurred to him that the hunter had ceased. “I want to see how much blood you can lose before you pass out, but…if I kill you, we can’t play anymore. That would be a shame.”

_Oh no. No no no. Let me go._

Gloved hands against his cheek, tilting his head so he could see the hunter grinning at him. Crimson iris, splatters of blood covering his skin as well. The man looked like a demon, and maybe he was. “I won’t skin you. It would be like throwing my favorite toy away.”

Dipper didn’t have the strength to answer, but the couple of stray tears that trickled onto the hunter’s gloves said all he needed to. 

The hunter ran his fingers through the cervitaur’s matted hair. “Because you’re my favorite, kid. And I’m never letting you go.”

Dipper let his eyes slip shut, unable to look at the man’s face any longer. Not for the first time, not for the last, he wished the hunter had made good on his word and brought what was now his miserable life to an end. 

“That’s enough for now. Let’s get you patched up.” His body rose, cradled against the hunter’s chest, and he failed to stop the shiver of revulsion that ran through him at contact with his captor. 

“I want to go home,” Dipper whispered, barely audible; a pair of warm lips planted a soft kiss against his temple. 

“You are home. And you're  _mine_." 


End file.
